


Touch me again

by toddykun



Series: Duckvember 2018 [4]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: But It's For Cuddling Purpose, Cuddles, Donald Duck Has PTSD, Dorks in Love, Exposure therapy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kind of Mindless Fluff, Kinda Unaccurate Despictions Of Therapy Techniques, Kisses, M'ma Cabrera cares about her boys and officers know a little too much about PTSD, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy, preening, probably because some of them have it like....m'ma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-23 20:13:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16625663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toddykun/pseuds/toddykun
Summary: “Hey,”  Donald said confidently one night in the houseboat, calling his attention instantly. “Touch me again.”duckvember 2018:8. love duck[2nd piece for this prompt]





	Touch me again

**Author's Note:**

> [[First posted 11/9/2018 in Tumblr](http://toddy-does.tumblr.com/post/179918345603/duckvember-2018-8-love-duck-first-piece)]
> 
> guys, if you need help, don't be like donald and ask for it lmao also, cuddles!!!
> 
> [AI MADE FANART FOR IT!!!! IM DYING GO CHECK IT OUT ITS SO BEAUTIFUL](https://ai-higurashi.tumblr.com/post/180150469175/toddy-does-duckvember-2018-8-love-duck-first) :hearts:

“Hey,” Donald whispered softly, almost inaudible from his place in a chair close to Fenton’s desk, near enough to keep him company and away enough to not distract him. Fenton looked up from the Dr. Gearloose’s new invention that he was assembling. Donald was sprawled on the chair, frowning at his fingers while he twiddled his thumbs.

The thing was, that even if Donald had put himself really far away from him he would have still been hyperaware of him, kind of distracting him anyways, and he knew that was why he heard him loud enough even when he whispered. Fenton addressed him verbally, knowing that Donald didn’t know that he was paying attention to him. “Yeah?”

He continued, hesitantly. “Could we try the touching again? Please.”

Fenton tried not to gasp, and to not look too eager to do what Donald actually asked of him. Fenton looked at the device, then looked at Donald. Fenton didn’t know he was so easy to convince to leave his responsibilities, but it was Donald, so yeah, he kind of understood himself.

After all, it was the first time that Donald had asked him to do it, instead of waiting for Fenton to initiate it.

It was a thing that started oddly between them, the touching. Specifically, Fenton touching Donald’s neck. But conditioning a triggered reaction formed by PTSD was a lot harder than they both thought at first. Not as hard as convincing Donald to do it in the first place anyways.

He discovered it by accident though, they had been making out for a while, Fenton’s hands never went to his neck until that moment, his hands always on his arms, on his chest or shoulders, but never on his neck. Until he felt a heavier feeling grew in his gut. Instinctively, his hands went to encircle around Donald’s neck.

Terrible decision.

Donald had jumped away from him like he had burned him, getting up from the sofa violently. He stared blankly ahead, stopped all together all kind of movement, his breath harshened and he started to sweat. Fenton, that thanks God actually had seen that type of behavior before in his own mamá, didn’t freak out immediately. Until he realized he didn’t know how to help at all because he had never had to assist his mamá. The only thing he could do was watch and stay in Donald’s vision range. That seemed to calm him down, maybe knowing that it was Fenton that did the action and not an upcoming threat.

Obviously, when everything passed, Fenton wanted to know how to help better next time. Donald, like the stubborn person he was, negated that he even needed the help or that there could be a next time. His mamá, that had been hearing them discuss it without them knowing she was in the house, said bullshit (scaring the crap out of Donald and embarrassing Fenton in an instant).

They insisted he go to therapy, Donald said no. His mamá asked what exactly what had happened, Donald and he told her (letting out some details that she probably knew anyway, because she was intelligent and had lived more than them). She asked if that had reminded him of some other time when the action was used in another context, he didn’t need to tell how exactly, just yes or no. Donald looked at her, then he looked down and nodded, slowly, almost embarrassed. His mamá declared then that maybe he had some form of PTSD, probably, she wasn’t a professional and he  _did need to go to therapy_ , like yesterday. Donald, again, unsurprisingly, said no. He swore he had never seemed his mother trying to endure the urge to hit some sense into someone, she sighed and gave them the idea of what she called exposure therapy.

His mamá told them how to proceed with it, probably all that experience as a police officer gave her the tools to deal with these things in a smaller range than a real therapist. And that she had PTSD too, probably for being a police officer ( _huh_ ). So, she told them what to do. It was basically to disassociate the action from the unpleasant memory and associate it with something pleasant. In her words,  _“your brain will understand that the action isn’t bad in other contexts, just bad in that one.”_

Donald didn’t seem so sure but said that he would think about it. His mamá said that was good enough for now but looked at Donald dead in the eye and told  _–demanded–_  him to go to therapy anyways even if he accepted to do what she said, because she was no professional and he needed to take his health seriously, Donald had nodded like his life depended on it (and it probably did).

He accepted the idea after a time of Fenton insisting very hard on it, he didn’t go to therapy though, because he was just as stubborn. They both prayed that she would never find out or he would be dead (and dragged to therapy for an angry Latina mamá).

That had been the start of what they ended calling  _the touching_. With Fenton’s just randomly asking him if he could touch his neck, every time increasing the level of touching that Donald let him do. Sometimes they progressed a lot, sometimes just a little, sometimes they straight up needed to take one or two steps back. It had been a journey.

Fenton got close to him with all that in mind and tried to touch him but then stopped, then tried again and stopped one more time. Fenton frowned, he didn’t know how to approach Donald now that it was him the one asking, especially since Donald was sitting and him standing. Donald quickly noticed his predicament and ended it just as quickly. He grabbed him by the waist, lifted him like it was nothing and put him on his lap, his legs straddling him. Fenton could stop the gasp and stopped his thoughts from straying to some place in his mind that they didn’t need at that moment, but he couldn’t stop the blush hidden under his feathers.

It was surprising how Donald could do these things and not be embarrassed but eager to do them, but he couldn’t bear someone touching his neck. He wanted to know what could have happened to turn such a small action into something so bad for someone. And if his mamá’s theory was correct, since he didn’t want to pressure Donald into telling him, he did have some idea of why, and he hated whoever could do something like that to him.*

Fenton, still thinking about that, went to touch Donald’s neck with less care that he usually did. Bad move. Donald stopped his hand even before he could reach a feather, gripping his wrist hard, almost painfully, his body completely tensed and his brows furrowed, he must had felt that Fenton wasn’t exactly calm. Fenton, realizing his mistake, didn’t move a single bit, trying to relax as much as possible for Donald. Little by little, Donald let go of his hand and started to even his breath. Fenton waited until Donald was again relaxed enough except for his neck and then, he touched it carefully, caressing softly his feathers.

I took a whole minute of that until Donald started to distend his neck, sighing pleasantly. Fenton smiled, feeling accomplishment set in his chest.

“Can I put my other hand?” Donald nodded, eyes still closed, hands loosely holding in his waist. Fenton went for it. Donald shuddered a little, but he didn’t do more than that. Fenton waited a few seconds before continuing his ministrations. He passed his hands slowly around the sides of his neck, up and down, to the base of his neck to the place where his neck and his jaw connected, he moved his thumb in circles too.

Donald started to relax even more, so relaxed that he started to instinctively put his head back, giving more access for Fenton to touch. Fenton smiled, fond and amused, he kept his ministrations going until Donald started to mumble some encouragement incoherently, making Fenton inevitably laugh.

“Does it feel good?”

Donald sighed, his hands started to move a little, up and down Fenton’s waist. He seemed pretty far away, in a good way. “Yeah…”

Fenton giggled, he decided to indulge himself a little now that they were in a good moment. After all, this was the most progress they had done since they started doing the touching. Fenton was feeling pretty proud. He started to run his fingers in a little more detailed manner, with one of his hands touching every feather individually and smoothing them, almost in the action of preening. Donald’s feathers felt soft and nice between his fingers. Fenton kept doing it absentmindedly, a little thought passing his mind.

 _“Preening, huh? It would be easier to do that with my beak, right? That’s how it’s supposed to be,”_  he thought, touching a particular feather and examining it before leaving it in the perfect position.  _Preening Donald, it didn’t sound like a bad thing to do at that moment_ , he thought next, his thought process influenced by his ‘I feel too good’ state. The actual intimate nature of the action not passing his mind not even for a moment.

He started doing it immediately, after he simpleminded thought process convinced him ridiculously fast that yes it was a good idea, replacing his hands with his beak without a second thought. Donald sighed not realizing the change, he was too into his ‘I feel too good’ state too. They went a while like that until Donald opened his eyes, and  _realized._

“Are you…are you preening me?”

Donald said, out of nowhere, he sounded hazy and out of it, probably still on cloud nine but with enough foot in the ground to realize that something was different. Fenton’s actual mind came back with that question like someone had reprimanded him because  _‘Oh Fenton, that’s something that you only do with your family and the people that are really, really close to you. Bad Fenton, don’t do that.’_  Fenton paralyzed instantly with that, falling from his cloud nine with a  _‘bam’_  to the ground.

He separated from him, nervously looking up to Donald. He was frowning but he didn’t seem mad, just incredulous and confused, but then he looked surprised. Like he realized something, like he thought too  _‘preening isn’t exactly something you do just like that.’_ They were both astounded by Fenton’s behavior.

Fenton felt mortified. He tried to save them from it but only fell harder. “I can’t? I-I mean, it’s okay if I can’t. I just, I mean.  _Quiero decir_ -.”

Fenton couldn’t stop himself from mumbling incoherently, not even picking up that he started to speak in Spanish by how nervous he was. So embarrassed that he didn’t see Donald blinking a few times and smiling. But he did feel the squeeze on his waist, and that stopped Fenton’s nervous mumbling. Fenton almost forgot that he was actually touching him too, grounding Fenton too into the real world. He looked up again, not knowing when had his eyes go down. Donald seemed as nervous as him but he gave him a reassuring smile.

“You can. If you wanna. I mean.” Donald sighed, taking a breath and closing his eyes. He rested his head into Fenton’s chest. He finished saying, in perfect Spanish, making Fenton’s heart soar:  _“It’s okay, you can do it. I trust you.”_

“A-are you sure?”

“Yeah, haven’t I making sure that you know I trust you with all the touching?” And he looked up at him, not separating his head from his chest and smiled sweetly. Fenton thought his heart was going to explode, but nodded, and kissed his forehead. Donald just giggled and then put himself like before, relaxed and with his head back, granting complete access to his neck to Fenton.

Fenton caressed his neck like at the start, feeling strangely excited. And then started to preen him, he went carefully about it, until he threw that out of the window and even started to leave little kissed around it. Donald automatically encircled his waist with his arms instead of just holding him with his hands.

Donald looked at him then, Fenton felt the question and nodded, and he started to preen him in return. Fenton sighed, feeling fuzzy and jittery all over. They took their time, indulging at the moment as much as the alone time in the lab got them.

At some point, they separated enough to look at each other’s eyes, cheeks hot and feeling the urge to do more. Glances started to stray to each other’s beaks, Fenton held Donald cheeks into his hands, his legs at every side of Donald body tightening a little more, Donald hold on his waist tightened in response, making the distance between their chests almost none existence.

He wanted to kiss him, he definitely wanted to kiss him right at that moment and for forever if he could, he loved him so much he could explode from it, and so he tried to.

Tried, because when their beaks were about to meet for the kiss, the elevator jingled.

Fenton didn’t know he could compose nor run so fast in his life. In less than a moment, he was working on the device again, his body imperceptible trembling all over when he heard Gyro and Manny’s footsteps into the lab. They didn’t address them nor even talked to them, Gyro just gave a little look to the device, nodded and went to his own desk. Fenton sighed, relieved, and gathered the courage to look at Donald.

He was with his arms crossed, trying to look bored but the evidence of what they were doing was clearly on him. Preened neck, stained cheeks, and disheveled shirt. His hat was actually on the floor, and Fenton didn’t even remember removing it. Donald crossed eyes with him and Fenton felt his own cheeks growing hotter under his feathers. Donald got up and took his hat.

“Well, I will let you to your, em, science.” He sounded out of place. Fenton felt it too. Gyro just grumbled to address him, Manny and Lil Bulb gave him they own response, a simple ‘see you later’ in Morse code. Fenton was the only one left to answer.

“Right. See you later?” he ended saying, nervousness running through him, a shy smile on his face.

Donald seemed to think of something, staring at him with indecision. Fenton looked at him, confused, tilting his head a little, looking cute without being aware. That seemed to trigger Donald’s decision, he walked to him and did something that Fenton wasn’t expecting.

He kissed him goodbye.

It had been fast and almost just a caress, but it sent Fenton’s heart from 0 to 200 km/s to the sky in just second anyways. He tried to blink away the feeling in his chest. He found that he couldn’t.

Donald smiled, that handsome smile on his already attractive face, like it was allowed. Fenton’s heart soared. “See you later.”

“Y-yeah.”

Donald simply ruffled his head and left. Fenton followed him with his eyes. Before the doors closed, Donald blinked at him.

Fenton felt his heart about to jump out of his ribcage.

When he turned around, his friends were all looking at him. Gyro with a smug smile, Lil Bulb looking pretty excited and with Manny tapping into the floor  _“congrats!”_  Fenton had never felt more mortified before.

At least, they progressed that day. A lot.

.

“Hey,” Donald said confidently one night in the houseboat, calling his attention instantly. Fenton looked down, paying attention to him and only to him, Donald had been resting on his lap for a while since they started watching that telenovela his mamá gotten them into. Fenton smiled, waiting for it. He knew what he was going to say.

Donald smiled, soft and blinding, calmness running through him, and continued:

“Touch me again.”

**Author's Note:**

> *sigh* i love them both so much. im have like no time so i usually post here and then i run away lmao
> 
> hope u enjoyed it!!!! 
> 
> come bother me if u want to:  
> [my writing and art tumblr](http://toddy-does.tumblr.com/)  
> [my personal tumblr](http://toddy-kun.tumblr.com/)  
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/toddywithcereal)


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